


It's Just Sex (Right?)

by Prowlsuniboob



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, but it's actually colleagues with benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 16:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prowlsuniboob/pseuds/Prowlsuniboob
Summary: Hate and lust are almost the same emotion, just packaged differently.Something's been changing, though. Prowl could feel it in the kisses, in the touches. There's something more. It's his imagination, probably.It's just sex, right?(A slightly edited version ofProwl/Jazz in the Month of July chapter 15. For those who've read it before, the ending has additional content.)





	It's Just Sex (Right?)

Prowl braced his hands on his console and let himself sag, just slightly. About him, the tactical department had begun to organize the medics, the evacuations, all the workings to be done after a battle. His mechs were competent; Prowl didn't need to be here.

Prowl drifted away to his office, leaving Trailbreaker in charge using as few words as possible. Once the door to his office closed behind him, Prowl allowed himself a moment to lean against the door. Weariness, brought about by something other than fatigue, seeped into his very struts.

Then he straightened. Pushed back his weariness, sat down at his desk, and began to go over the data from the battle.

Before he knew it, hours had passed. Prowl set aside his report and stood, his head still swimming with numbers; casualties, damages, repair costs. Outside his office, the tactical department was dim with the quiet of night, and the hallway outside held a similar hush.

Prowl made his way through the empty halls of the base, down to the medbay. The double doors opened silently, exposing the dead quiet room. The smell of antiseptic only barely masked the recent scent of energon and smoking circuits. Prowl slipped between the berths of sleeping injured, taking in each face and matching it to a name. None of them stirred.

Then he went to the back, to that cold room with sheet-clad bodies. There were too many. Prowl pulled down each sheet, looked at their slack, grey faces.

The medics had probably already performed last rites, but still, for each one Prowl whispered a prayer. It had been a long time since he truly believed in Primus, in the Allspark, but still he prayed that their sparks would find passage to their creator's embrace.

Then he stepped out. Opened the door to the adjacent room. He couldn't bear to step inside, to see the faces of those resigned to their fates, gripped by the agony of death or the mere knowledge of their dying state. He just looked, and counted.

It was easier when they were just numbers on a page, data in his console. This was something of a recent habit.

The walk back to his quarters was a blur, mere autopilot carrying him there. He typed in his code, stepped inside, turned to lock the door behind him. His doorwings flicked, registering the presence sitting at his desk.

"When did you get back?" Prowl asked, turning around.

Jazz tilted his head, his gaze hidden, as always. "Just after the battle. I guess you were busy."

"I was. But I'm not now." Prowl took a few steps forward to stand before Jazz.

Dark servos reached out, digits hooking in the plating of Prowl's hips and pulling him closer. Even with the visor on, Prowl could see Jazz's gaze raking over Prowl's frame, wanting, desiring. Hate and lust were such similar emotions. It was that similarity that had sparked this arrangement of theirs in the first place.

Something had been changing, of late, though. Prowl could feel it now, in the way Jazz's gaze stroked over his frame, the way Jazz's hands rested on his hips.

Then Jazz looked up, meeting Prowl's optics. "You sure you wanna do this tonight, mech?"

Prowl frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

"It's been a stressful day for both of us."

"All the more reason to do this." Prowl rested his hands lightly on Jazz's, lifted one up to the headlight on his chest. "Come on. Jazz." He smirked. "Take charge. That's how this relationship works."

Prowl could see the moment Jazz settled into it, his concern (had it been concern?) falling behind a familiar lascivious grin. "Relationship? Is that what this is?" His thumb rubbed the sensitive glass of Prowl's headlight.

"I like to think of it as 'colleagues with benefits'."

"Hmm, very fitting." Jazz gave one last stroke, then stood. Prowl stepped back to give the mech room, sidestepping him in order to push the chair back in to the desk.

Warmth flared against his back as Jazz stepped close. Arms looped about Prowl from behind. One servo toyed with Prowl's recently abandoned headlight, but the other drifted down, down, nimble digits teasing at the wires about Prowl's hips.

Lips fluttered against Prowl's neck as Jazz said, "You're such a stickler." Jazz pressed a kiss there, and then a little further down. He kissed along Prowl's neck, urging Prowl into tilting his head.

Prowl's digits tightened on the back of the chair, his doorwings flaring out to embrace the mech between them. "Force of habit." His voice shook ever so slightly.

"Mmhm, sure." Jazz's lips pecked down Prowl's neck, his shoulder, and finally along his wing. Prowl arched into it as heat began to pool within his abdomen, pulsing faintly. Then, teeth, nipping lightly. A gasp escaped Prowl's lips, and Jazz chuckled. "Want you to be loud tonight, Prowler." Jazz turned his head and nipped at the other wing in the same spot. "Want to see you lose control. Beg for me. Call my name."

Prowl wanted to reach back, but the weight of Jazz against his back forced his hands to remain where they were on the chair back, bracing both of them. "You'll have to work for it." Prowl turned his head to look at the mech behind him.

Jazz stole a deep kiss, plundering Prowl's mouth. When at last he pulled away, he was smirking. "I intend to." He pressed his lips to Prowl's audial. Down below, his hands had trailed to Prowl's hips, pulling him back against Jazz's codpiece. "How shall I take you, Prowler?" he purred. "Over your desk? Against the wall?"

A full-body shudder shook Prowl's frame, the combined effect of Jazz's voice and his words. He ground back against Jazz, relishing in the heat he felt beneath it, a sign of Jazz's growing arousal. "Berth," he whispered.

"As my lover commands."

Strong hands turned Prowl around, and then he was blinded by a kiss. Prowl moaned just a little, reaching up to loop his arms about Jazz's neck. (He didn't think about the words Jazz chose, how he'd called Prowl 'lover'.) He let Jazz back him up until he felt his berth knocking against his legs.

Prowl sat down on his berth, scooted back until he lay with his head on his pillow. Jazz stood over him, visor bright with lust. Prowl smiled coyly, reaching up to grip the rails that made up the headboard of his berth. He spread his legs and felt a familiar spark of nervousness, fear, anticipation as he made himself vulnerable. "Don't spend too much time looking," he said.

Jazz smirked. "I could self-service to this image alone, mech." He descended, stretching out over Prowl's frame, laying his weight down between Prowl's thighs. Prowl made to wrap his arms about his lover's neck, but Jazz took hold of his wrists and guided them to their previous position. "I like you like that," he murmured. "Keep'm there." And then he was trailing kisses down Prowl's neck, his chest, his abdomen.

Prowl shuddered as he obeyed, trembled at the too-soft kisses. (Why so many kisses? Why was this different from the other times they'd interfaced?)

Prowl's legs spread wide to accommodate Jazz's broad shoulders as Jazz settled there. Digits brushed the insides of Prowl's thighs, urging them to spread wider, wider. Prowl rocked upwards into that too-light touch, and gasped as Jazz's grip tightened, pressing his hips down into the berth.

"Stay still, pretty," Jazz purred, his words gusting against Prowl's panel. "And open up."

He needed no more prompting than that. Prowl's valve panel slid aside, leaving his spike behind its cover. Jazz purred with approval, the sound vibrating up Prowl's frame. Prowl arched, mouth open in a silent moan, pushing against Jazz's servos just to feel his lover's hold tighten.

Jazz nipped at the inside of Prowl's thigh, smirking at the whine it sparked. Prowl had no time to react to that, though, because then Jazz's lips were on his valve. Prowl gasped, struggling against Jazz's servos, unsure whether he was trying to pull away or get closer. Jazz chuckled, the sound rippling through Prowl's valve, and he plunged deeper.

Prowl could only lie there, his legs shaking. Soon, Jazz added his digits, growling out a warning before he removed his hand from Prowl's thigh. Prowl's valve fluttered about that solid intrusion, welcoming it deeper. Prowl threw his head back as his charge ratcheted higher and higher. He would overload soon under the weight of this stimulus, with the warmth of Jazz between his legs.

"Yes." The word spilled unbidden from Prowl's lips. His overload was just over the horizon.

Just as his overload reached him, Jazz pulled back, leaving Prowl's valve achingly empty. A groan of dismay tore from Prowl's throat. "Please!"

Jazz's engine rumbled possessively. Like a predator, Jazz loomed over Prowl's frame, bracing his hands on either side of Prowl's helm. "Patience, Prowler." A _snick_ signaled the opening of Jazz's codpiece. Prowl shuddered as Jazz rocked up against his node, frotting against his wet valve in a mockery of what they both knew Prowl wanted.

Free to move, Prowl rocked his hips against Jazz's spike. When he earned no reprimand, he did it again. His valve ached to be filled, though, and this would not satisfy. "Please."

Jazz bend and stole a kiss. Prowl moaned as he tasted himself.

"Please what?"

Frustration flared up in Prowl's chest, and he let go of the headboard, reaching out. "Just frag me alread- ahh!"

Jazz thrust roughly into Prowl's ready valve. Large servos gripped Prowl's and forced them down beside his helm. "I told you to keep them up there," Jazz growled.

Prowl could hardly think with Jazz's spike seated within him, pressing against every node his lover's fingers didn't reach. "You know you like a little rebellion," Prowl gasped out, tightening his valve about that filling spike.

Jazz grunted, a smirk turning his lips. "You're right about that, lover."

"Uh huh." Prowl rocked up. "So will you move?"

"As my lover commands."

It was a whirlwind. Prowl bucked up into Jazz's hard, heavy thrusts. Vaguely, he was aware of the berth creaking beneath them. But Prowl could only feel Jazz's spike, striking against his ceiling node, and Jazz's warmth, pressing him down and securing him against the berth.

It didn't take long for Prowl's overload to crash over him, pulling a cry from his lips. Jazz kept going, though, and Prowl's charge only soared. His lips loosened by his overload, Prowl felt a distant litany of words spilling out of him, "Please!" and "Yes!" and "More! Harder!"

Jazz's digits laced with Prowl's own where they pressed Prowl's servos to the pillow. Jazz buried his face in Prowl's neck as Prowl arched, his legs wrapping about Jazz's waist. The sound of Jazz's spike thrusting over and over into Prowl's wet valve was lewd, but Prowl was too far gone to be ashamed of it.

Pleasure flared bright in Prowl's spark, brighter and brighter. He felt his second overload approaching, but he wanted Jazz to fall first, wanted to feel the heat of his lover's transfluid fill him to the brim.

Prowl undulated against Jazz's body, his words coming out unbidden. "Please, Jazz," he gasped. "Overload- overload inside me." A hard thrust against his ceiling node dragged a high-pitched cry from Prowl's chest. "Primus, yes, Jazz, make me yours."

Jazz's thrusts took a more erratic rhythm. The larger mech's engine roared, and Prowl cried out as teeth bit almost too hard into the cables of his neck. Jazz plunged in deep and overloaded, sending Prowl spinning into his own overload, his lover's name torn from his throat.

For one spark-stopping moment, Prowl felt the urge to open his chestplates and bare his spark to the mech above him. He caught himself before he could, and just as quickly forgot that he almost had, lost in the aftermath of his overload.

They sank into one another, plating pinging as their frames slowly cooled. After a minute, Jazz pulled out, his spike retreating behind his panel. Prowl followed suit, closing his valve panel and trapping his lover's transfluid inside him. The mere thought sent a shiver through Prowl's frame.

Jazz rolled off Prowl's frame. Together, they shifted, until Prowl lay facing the wall, Jazz against his back on the outside of the berth. Prowl couldn't remember when they'd started to do this. (When had their hate-sex arrangement become something different?)

Jazz pressed his lips to Prowl's neck, over the dents his teeth had left. His servos trailed idly over Prowl's frame, his waist, his hips, his thighs. An idle touch, not meant to arouse, but simply to ground both of them. A ping from Prowl had the lights in the room darkening to a barely-visible yellow.

"I saw you earlier, going through the medbay." Jazz's murmur broke the silence.

"You did?" Prowl glanced over his shoulder. He could only see the plating of Jazz's shoulder, just behind Prowl's folded wings. "Why didn't you approach me then?"

"You seemed busy." Jazz drew lines on Prowl's plating. Prowl didn't try deciphering them. "I don't remember you doing that before I left."

Jazz had gone for his mission over three months ago. Prowl remembered sending him off with a plan Prowl himself had made, multiple contingencies that Prowl had crafted, just in case. Prowl remembered realizing that Jazz might not be coming back, and it would be his fault. And Prowl couldn't, couldn't think of Jazz as a number anymore, a blip of data, a piece to be moved on the board.

"It's a recent development."

"I see." Jazz nuzzled into the crook of Prowl's neck. His arms wrapped a little tighter about Prowl's waist. "You're okay?"

"It's harder, trying to care for them."

"I know."

"How do you manage it?"

A kiss against the back of his neck. "I got you, don't I?"

Did he? Prowl didn't know whether to say yes, no, maybe… Jazz didn't seem to care, settling into recharge with a restful sigh.

"G'night, Prowler."

"Good night, Jazz."

It had all been so much easier when it was just sex.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't often write smut, despite how fond I am of reading and leading up to it. Perhaps because my writing usually focuses on emotional rather than physical impact. Nonetheless, writing smut is fun. And difficult, when you've got this laid out in your head like a story-board film reel and you have to put it into words.
> 
> Comments and kudos would be greatly appreciated :))


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